


The Repercussions of Being an Asshole

by Miss_Yuki



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Jesse is 18 in this, M/M, Rated M for language, there's no sex sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 16:18:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7852273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Yuki/pseuds/Miss_Yuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse wasn't all that nice when he first joined up. He felt like he'd been threatened into the job, and Reyes constantly smacking him around pushes him to acting out. He works himself a little too hard, gets sick, and learns a lot more about his commander than he thought was possible given their relationship. </p>
<p>In the end, he's grateful he got sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Repercussions of Being an Asshole

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, so I wrote this for some fantastic gents who were my inspiration for this whole thing. Please enjoy and I apologize if it's not what you were expecting :)

Jesse had never felt so out of place as he did in Blackwatch. It was all so… different than what he’d come to expect as his lot in life. He was a rat from the streets, a member of a gang which had taught him to survive, a criminal. But here, in Overwatch’s covert ops, he was actually seen as a hero by some. And that frightened the hell out of him. He was no hero, he was garbage. He didn’t belong here, but he’d had no choice but to accept the position when he was faced with jailtime. 

He especially felt out of place around his commanding officer, Gabriel Reyes. The man was intimidating; he had a presence that scared the piss out of most people just upon seeing his perma-scowl. And Jesse? Well, frankly he despised the man. He’d been the one to recruit him- though whether or not the word ‘recruit’ was actually appropriate was up for debate. He was more… threatened into the position. Reyes had promised him that if he didn’t comply and use his talent for their cause, he’d make sure the kid wouldn’t even last a full year in prison. Of course, being that he still wanted to be a free man, he reluctantly agreed to join the little operation Reyes was running in exchange for another chance at life.

That didn’t mean he liked the guy in the least. He was playing along so that he could live, and though he had to admit the accommodations were better than what he’d come across so far, he didn’t feel any more at home. Most folks were kind enough, but Reyes, well, he seemed to have a particularly strong urge to pick fights with his new recruits, or anyone under his command that so much as scratched their nuts without his permission. 

Jesse hated him. 

“Oye,  _ pendejo,  _ fucking pay attention and shoot the damn target!” Growled the angry voice of his commander, and he was suddenly staring at the ground with a sharp sting on the back of his head from where Reyes had slapped him. He cursed under his breath, but didn’t dare turn back to give the bastard the glare he so deserved. Instead, he lifted his gun in a steady hand and fired off three rounds- all hitting the targets perfectly. Still, it wasn’t enough. “Too fucking slow. You’re gonna get yourself killed like that, damn it! Thought you liked to pride yourself on being quick, hmm? Or was that some stupid euphemism for your sex life?” McCree could practically hear the cruel smirk in Reyes’ voice, but rather than reply, he took a deep breath, clenched his jaw, and fired the three remaining bullets in ever quicker succession than his last bout. He missed one of the targets. He got smacked again. 

“Look,  _ Reyes _ , I’ve been at this for three goddamn hours, can’t expect me to be at my fuckin’ best after I’ve shot enough bullets to replace a man’s whole body with lead.” He snapped, finally fed up with his commander. He turned back around just in time to earn a punch to the jaw, and he went down with a grunt and a hand flying to his stinging face. It was already starting to heat with the blood rushing to the area, and he could feel his pulse with the pain. “Shit, Reyes, what the fuck?!” he shouted, eyes blazing with rage as he pushed himself back up to his feet and stared the other man down. Reyes’ face was dark, and before McCree could again demand an explanation, a gun was pressing to his forehead, and his blood ran cold as his face dropped. 

“Bang. You’re dead, kid. Now do you fucking understand? I won’t lose my men due to incompetence.” Reyes snarled cruelly, pulling the gun back slowly and slipping it back into its holster. McCree was fairly relieved when he caught sight of the safety- it was on. Still, the threat was very real, and he was convinced that his commander wouldn’t hesitate to actually shoot him if he jeopardized a mission in any way. That was just the way the man was. 

Rather than rumble out some half-assed reply, McCree just looked down at his gun and went to reload it silently, turning back to the targets until he felt a hand grab his shoulder, none too gently. “No. We’re done for today. Hit the showers and meet me in range 1 tomorrow morning after breakfast. You’re going to get this down if it takes the next fucking month.” Reyes said, releasing his shoulder and turning on his heel to leave without even a word of farewell. 

Jesse just stood there, watching his commander leave and wincing when the door slammed shut with a punishing ‘bang’ that seemed louder than any of his gunshots. With a curse, he looked down to finish reloading his gun, and resumed his target practice. 

He didn’t leave until he ran out of ammo.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, he avoided the mess hall altogether, opting to skip out on breakfast to instead get in some more shooting practice before Reyes could get there. If he had the choice, he’d avoid him completely, but he didn’t have much choice when his commander had specifically scheduled private practices with him, when he knew nobody else would be in the range. By the time Reyes got there, Jesse had already filled the fresh targets full of holes. The hiss of the door opening was the cowboy’s only warning before Reyes was striding up to him, looking sour as always. McCree grumbled a curt ‘morning’, but was otherwise silent as he lined up his shots and fired them off in quick succession. Reyes grunted in return, and moved to stand just behind his ‘student’. 

“How long you been here?” He asked, voice deep with sleepiness. Clearly the man’s coffee hadn’t kicked in quite yet. Jesse envied that he even  _ had _ coffee. He hadn’t had a cup in nearly two weeks. Since he discovered Reyes never missed a meal in the mess hall when they were back at the watchpoint, he’d done all he could to  _ not _ eat with the others. Granted, that meant that half the time he was starving, but he just couldn’t bring himself to be around Reyes if he didn’t have to be. 

“About an hour.” McCree replied, eyes trained on the targets. He desperately hoped his commander didn’t want to engage in small talk, so in hopes of silencing him, he set himself to reloading and firing off the next six bullets. It seemed to work well enough, and he even earned a short hum of approval. For some reason, that only irritated him more. He reloaded again, and when he was lifting his gun, suddenly he felt warmth against his back, and Reyes’ hand was curling around his own and helping him steady his grip. He nearly jerked away, but his commander’s hold was strong enough to keep him there even if he tried.

“You’re thinking too much, kid. You line up the shot, you fire. You line up the next shot, you fire. Rinse, repeat. It’s not fucking rocket science.” Reyes growled, his mouth so close that his hot breath ghosted across McCree’s ear. He opened his mouth to speak, but then Reyes’ finger was pushing his into the trigger and sending the bullet straight into the painted on heart in the target’s chest. And then he was guiding Jesse into his next shot, and then the next, and it all happened so quickly the cowboy was taken aback a bit. But then Gabriel was pulling away, and Jesse did his best to stay stable when that body moved away from keeping him upright. He felt… disgusted. The man he despised the most had just been far too close with him, and he sneered as he jerked as far away as he could and tossed a glare over his shoulder at him. 

“I can shoot just  _ fine,  _ damnit! If I couldn’t I wouldn’t fuckin’ be alive now, would I?!” he shouted, anger radiating off of him as he grit his teeth and set his eyes hard on Reyes’. He was beyond pissed, and nearly ready to fire off a round or four into his commander’s face.

Reyes, however, only darkened his gaze and swiftly reached up, wrapping a hand around Jesse’s throat tightly. “Watch your fucking mouth, kid. I’m trying to fucking help you  _ keep _ living,  _ comprende? _ But if you can’t fucking accept that, then fine. Don’t expect me to jump in front of any bullets for you, smartass.” And then, all at once, Jesse could breathe again as the hand disappeared from his throat, and Reyes was storming out. 

That was just fine by him. He was done entertaining the bastard. He was going to prove he didn’t need his help, whether his commander approved or not.

 

* * *

 

 

The next few weeks, there was no one-on-one training. If they ran into one another on the range, it was purely by chance and not a word was spoken between them. But during missions and briefings, every time they interacted, it was all violent words and gnashing teeth and barely-restrained fights. Jesse disobeyed orders, charging ahead or splitting off from the group to attack enemies completely alone, and more than once Gabriel had rushed into an area just to find it already cleared by a sneering McCree. 

The commander knew that Jesse was trying to prove that he didn’t  _ need _ his commander’s help, but it was still so incredibly reckless that their after-mission fights would quickly devolve into yelling matches, and even got physical a time or two. 

During that time, which was a period of nearly two months, McCree became even more reclusive around the base, and bolder on missions. He refused to visit the ranges if Gabriel was there at all. The time he didn’t spend taking his aggression out on inanimate objects in the shooting range was wasted in his room, drinking all the smuggled away bourbon and whiskey he could steal or chain smoking far too many cigarettes. He didn’t eat with the others, preferring to sneak through the base in the quiet of the night and fill his aching stomach with whatever leftovers he could find in one of the refrigerators in the kitchens. He was never fully satisfied, though, especially since he’d retreat to his quarters if he so much as heard a door opening or footsteps down the hall. 

It became a problem on missions, as he’d essentially starved himself. Half the time, his hands were shaking and his hunger pangs were so severe he occasionally had to stop everything in order to make it through the pain. Later, he’d eat more food to try and keep up, but it never lasted him through the whole next day. 

Still, despite the stress on his body, he did his best to charge ahead on missions, but his aim had gotten sloppier due to his swimming vision and trembling fists, and he’d be out of bullets before he could take out all of his targets. When he was forced to fall back, he would receive a thorough chewing-out via communicator by Reyes, who was so angry half of his words were spat in Spanish. At first, Jesse would snap back just as many insults as he was given, but as the weeks wore on, he was too exhausted to do much more than just manage an irritated grunt of reply and do his best to tune his commander out. 

The worst turning point was when he got shot. The bullet had surely been intended for his chest, but Jesse had been on the move and it instead pierced his forearm and shattered both bones. It went straight through his ulna, and lodged firmly in the radius. He’d passed out from both shock and blood loss after it happened, and came to only later when they had made it back to the transport- and one of his teammates had a hunting knife sawing through his elbow. Blood was everywhere, and McCree screamed, and vomited, and Reyes just watched on with a grim frown. He had lost consciousness again before it was over. 

Later, back at Gibraltar, Mercy had explained that his wound would have become badly infected and he’d have lost more if they hadn’t amputated, and that she’d been the one to advise Reyes on what had to be done. McCree heard this, but his mind just circled the fact that it was Gabriel that ultimately made the call. He didn’t even register her concern on his malnutrition, hatred and mourning roiling in the pit of his belly. He was sewn up, given a week of bedrest and a temporary prosthetic, and then an earful from Reyes for being so reckless. 

He didn’t even have the energy to bite back when he was called a good-for-nothing, had nothing to say when he was told he should have been left lying in that godforsaken gorge. He just waited until Reyes was done, glared the whole while, and then promptly lifted his new, metal middle finger to him before standing and leaving the room. 

The physical therapy went fairly smoothly when his custom prosthetic came in, and he found very little difficulty shooting or throwing his flashbangs after just a few days of practice. He was sent back out into the field not two weeks after the incident. 

If anything, his loss only made him more determined to show up Reyes. 

_ I can still outshoot you with a missing arm,  _ hijo de puta. 

His mental state was deteriorating as fast as the rest of him, devolving into a whirl of depression, anger,  _ hatred _ . He drank himself to sleep almost every night he could, skipped his midnight meals altogether occasionally, and only went down to the shooting range when he was sure  _ nobody _ would be there at all. 

Through all of this, nobody aside from Gabriel actually even knew the cowboy well enough to notice something was off about his behavior. He hadn’t bothered trying to make friends here, and though Angela had given him at least three stern lectures to take better care of himself, he knew she was only doing it as a doctor, and not out of genuine concern. 

Finally, after not seeing Jesse at all for nearly a month, Strike Commander Morrison came to check on him, to see if he was still even  _ there _ . What he found was an unconscious kid on the floor of his room, face flushed red and whole body soaked through with sweat. There was a rancid puddle of bile beneath McCree’s face, and he jumped to the recruit’s side immediately, helping him into bed with his head turned to the side in case he had to vomit again, and he remained by the cowboy’s side until Angela came to help. 

“He’s overworked himself. And I’m fairly sure he hasn’t been eating properly, either. Damn it, I told him to take better care of himself…” Angela tutted as she moved to clean up his face and take his temperature. She frowned at the reading, but didn’t bother sharing the information with Jack.

“So, is he gonna be alright? I mean, we don’t have to get him hooked up to machines or anything, do we?” the commander asked, frowning down at the empty bottles that once contained alcohol littering the floor around his feet. 

“No. I believe this to be from stress. He needs lots of rest, easy foods, and absolutely  _ no _ booze or tobacco until… well, no, really he just doesn’t need those things.” Angela sighed, wiping down Jesse’s face with a cool rag and gently rubbing his good arm to wake him. He was hyperventilating in his sleep, and she had to put a stop to that immediately. He roused easily enough, and cracked a bloodshot eye open to look at her, clearly disoriented and dizzy. He couldn’t keep his pupil still, and Angela pursed her lips in concern as she held up a pill in front of him, along with a glass of water. 

“Mister McCree, you are very ill, and I need you to take this antibiotic to help fight your virus.” she instructed. In reality, the pill was for anxiety, and it would help calm his mind and help his body to begin stabilizing. Or, so she hoped. She wasn’t even entirely sure he was lucid enough to understand her. 

Until his hand shot out and snatched the small white square from her palm and shoved it into his throat, before chasing it with too-big gulps of the water. She had to pull the glass away from his lips, knowing if he continued like that he’d only throw it all back up. 

“Give it back..” he moaned pitifully, and Angela shook her head sternly. 

“You need to drink it slowly, McCree. Guzzling it down like that will help nobody. Now, you are not to get up from this bed unless you have assistance, do you understand me? I will keep my communicator on, and if you need anything at all, do not hesitate to call me. I will have someone bring you your meals, and you  _ will _ eat them, or so help me I will put a tube in your spine.” she threatened, but it was followed by a soft, compassionate smile that confused the hell out of Jesse. 

She stayed with him until the pill finally kicked in, and he was lulled into a much more peaceful slumber. While he was out, the task of cleaning him up was left to her, and Jack went ahead to inform Reyes that his protegé wouldn’t be going on their next mission. 

“What the  _ fuck _ is wrong with the little shit this time?!” Gabriel demanded, already heated at the fact that his whole operation would be hindered without Jesse there. “Is he complaining about his goddamn arm?  _ Dios mio,  _ he’s gonna have to fucking live with that. He fucked up, he doesn’t-”

“Gabe, I understand that you’re angry, but the kid’s actually pretty sick.” Jack explained, trying to keep the situation from escalating. Reyes’ face only twisted into an even angrier snarl. 

“Lazy sonofabitch, he sent you here to beg me to go easy, didn’t he? Coward, well I’m not gonna fucking take this lying down!” Gabriel snapped, shooting up from his desk chair and storming past Jack to the door to his office.

“Gabe, please, that’s not a good-” Jack tried, but before he could even finish his sentence, his second-in-command was already slamming the door shut after him and making his way to Jesse’s quarters. Knowing that Gabriel wouldn’t back down now, Morrison just sighed heavily and left the office, making his way back to his own to resume his paperwork. Athena would alert him if he was needed to break up a fight.

Reyes was already swearing angrily under his breath as he made his way to his subordinate’s room, mind a blur of nasty insults and anger and indignation. Jesse was just slacking off, complaining to the soft-hearted Jack who wouldn’t be able to tell him no if he was pathetic enough. Little bastard needed to learn his place. His face darkened into an even angrier sneer when he finally caught sight of McCree’s door, and he picked up his pace until he was before it and slamming his fist on the ‘open’ button. It slid open before him, and his chest puffed up as he started bellowing insults before he could even fully make it into the room. 

“You lazy piece of  _ shit,  _ get off your ass and get ready for-” He was interrupted by the sound of violent gagging, and his angry expression turned to shock when he actually saw Jesse, bent over a bucket on the floor retching into a large metal bucket that was also occupied by cigarette butts. He was sure the kid had heard him, but he was clearly too busy trying not to spew bile all over the room. 

The smell hit Gabriel like a wrecking ball, the combination of sweat, vomit, smoke, and alcohol nearly making  _ him _ gag, and he took a quick look around the room to survey the damage. Trash was everywhere, the bedsheets were soaked through with sweat, there was a puddle of bile on the floor not too far from the bucket, and Jesse’s prosthetic was lying against the wall opposite the kid’s bunk, looking as if it had been thrown there in a fit of rage. Aside from that, there was a small bottle of pills on the nightstand, and a half-drunk glass of water. Angela had been here, then. There was no way Jesse had managed to go get those on his own. 

Suddenly feeling the weight of the situation settle heavily in his chest, Gabriel sighed and turned on his heel, barely catching Jesse’s eye for the briefest of moments before he was out the door. He wasn’t calm, not by a long shot, but he had a clearer head as he shouldered past anyone who got in his way until he was in the kitchen. He may not have been the best at taking care of people, but he remembered the things his mother had given him when he was a sick child, and that he’d always felt better afterwards. 

It only took him a few minutes to fix a mug of hot peppermint tea (from Ana’s stash), and a reheated bowl of chicken soup that Reinhardt had made for dinner a few nights prior. He placed both things on a tray, and then threw in a package of saltine crackers for good measure. If nothing else, they’d be something McCree could keep down. 

He met Angela at the door of Jesse’s room, who took one look at the tray and gave a knowing smile before pushing the open button for him. He kept his face blank, not wanting to give her the satisfaction she was looking for, and moved past her to put the tray on Jesse’s desk. 

“Well, Gabriel, I was going to clean up his room a bit but if you’re not doing anything, could you take my place? I have patients that need their vitals taken. Thank you so much, call me if you need me!” she chirped, and before he could bark out a protest, the door was sliding shut again and he could hear her retreating footsteps. 

“The fuck’re you doin’, I don’t need your help.” Jesse groused weakly from his place on the floor, and Gabriel’s head snapped back in his direction, eyes narrowing as he judged the kid’s state. Without a word, he moved from his place and grabbed Jesse by his good arm and hauled him up and to his desk chair. 

“Shut up. Eat this or I’m going to shove it down your throat for you.” Gabriel growled, all but throwing the soup spoon at Jesse. The cowboy scrambled to catch it, but instead it fell in his lap, and he snorted indignantly. He looked up again, ready to bite out some less-than-witty response, but Gabriel had already moved to grab the puke bucket and move it to his side.

“Don’t say a fucking word. Eat, and do it  _ slowly _ .” he instructed, not meeting Jesse’s eyes and instead taking stock of what he needed to do first. The window needed to be opened. The smell was horrendous, and the room desperately needed to be aired out. It was a bit tricky to make it across the room without kicking bottles everywhere, and he cursed as he nearly tripped on one. Those would be the next to go. He pried the window open when he finally reached it, and then went into the bathroom to fetch a garbage bag from under the sink. 

“You’re such a fucking slob. There’s a goddamn reason we provide you with wastebaskets and-” oh, well. McCree had indeed used his wastebasket. It was just overflowing now. He sighed angrily and began throwing away the glass bottles littering the floor. His nose scrunched up in distaste at the half-smoked cigarillos lying around amidst the clutter, and he looked up to glare at Jesse- who was, to his credit, dutifully sipping at the soup and tea. He’d punish the kid later, once he was sure that raising his voice too loud wouldn’t send McCree toppling over. 

Luckily, it didn’t take too long to pick up all the trash, and then he set the two large trash bags outside the door to be collected later. The smell wasn’t much better, but the air was breathable again at the very least. 

“Why are you doing this?” he heard as he surveyed the room again, making sure he hadn’t missed anything. He paused, not entirely sure himself. Something inside him just… wanted to help. 

“I don’t leave my men behind. Believe it or not you can actually be useful sometimes. Besides, it’d be a pain in the ass to find a replacement for you.” Gabriel answered after a few moments, but earned a snort in reply. He turned to glare at Jesse, but to his shock the kid was actually smiling. It was probably supposed to look meaner, but the cowboy couldn’t manage to look angry when his face was a mess of sweat, tears, and pasty skin with baggy red eyes. 

“Aww, Reyes, ya actually care for me, don’t’cha?” he teased, managing a chuckle for a few seconds before it tapered off into a violent coughing fit. Gabriel slapped his back a few times, frowning as he offered McCree the tea again. 

“Shut up kid. I just don’t feel like dealing with some other snot-nosed brat for this fucking long again.” Reyes huffed, watching as McCree sipped down the tea to ease the coughs. “Now shut up and eat. When you’re done you’re taking a goddamn shower. You smell as filthy as the rest of this pit you call a room.”

Jesse stared at his commander for a moment, but didn’t say anything more when he set down the mug and started to work on the soup. Reyes let out a pleased hum at his orders were actually  _ followed _ by Jesse for once, and he set his attention back to the room. 

“I’m getting you new sheets. I’ll be right back. Don’t try anything funny.” he snapped, moving to McCree’s bunk and swiftly stripping it of its blanket, sheets, and pillowcases. All of it was bundled up in his arms, and after a moment he also snatched Jesse’s red serape off the ground as well. He pushed the door button with his hip, and then he was gone again, leaving the cowboy utterly reeling as to what was happening.

Why was Reyes being so helpful? From what McCree had come to understand, the man would sooner string him up and fill his body full of lead before he’d go so far out of his way to help him. Had Jack ordered him to do this? No, if that were the case Gabriel would be doing a lot more complaining and a lot less cleaning. 

His contemplation was stalled for a moment when a cool, fresh breeze swept in from the open window, and he shivered and frowned in discontent as his already freezing body was cooled even more by the drying sweat coating him. But at least it smelled better than the stink that had been building in his room for the past few weeks. The thick stench of smoke would be hard to get rid of, but the sharp scent of vomit was clearing out and already his stomach had begun to settle. 

Honestly, aside from his fatigue, chill, and headache, he was feeling much better than he had in weeks. His stomach was only offering mild protests, but the peppermint was helping to clear that up fairly efficiently. It reminded him of how his abuela had always made him suck on peppermint candy or chew gum when he was sick as a kid, to help soothe his nausea. Damn, he missed her. Really she… she’d probably be disappointed in him for the way he’d been acting out at his superior. The man had pulled him out of a life of crime, and had set him up in a great position here and was even helping him learn better survival skills. Plus, for the first time in his life he had his own bed, in a room that he didn’t have to share, and was earning an honest pay. 

A different kind of sickness rose up in him then: guilt. Here he’d been fighting so hard against Reyes, when really the man had done nothing but help redeem him from his former life. Sure, he had a nasty attitude and had spat insults and degradations at McCree from day one, but even so he’d provided a better life for the former gang member than he could have ever hoped for if he’d stayed in that damned gorge. Shit. He couldn’t even apologize for his behavior, as it would never even come close to being enough for what he’d done. 

He set his spoon down in thought as he stared blankly at the soup. Reyes had even gone so far as to clean his room and make him food to help him feel better, when even Angela probably would have just given him medicine and told him to clean up after himself. This… this was far beyond what he’d ever expected from Gabriel, and now he felt like utter shit for the way he’d treated him. 

He was still deep in thought, guilt weighing heavy on his heart when Reyes came back into the room with fresh, folded linens that he placed on the floor at the foot of Jesse’s bed, and then went about putting them  _ on _ the bed. 

“You done eating,  _ pendejo _ ?” he grunted, wrangling the fitted sheets around the corners of the mattress and tossing a quick look over his shoulder at the pensive cowboy. Jesse just nodded and lifted the mug of tea to swallow down the last few draws of it before he replied. 

“Yeah. I.. thanks, sir." McCree muttered, slowly pushing himself to his feet and turning to watch Gabriel work. 

Reyes paused, though, and turned around to give Jesse a long, scrutinizing look. He’d never heard that particular title from the kid in all the time they’d been working together. Something was up, and he didn’t like that.

“‘Sir’? Since when the fuck do you call me that?” he snapped, standing upright and crossing his arms over his chest, demanding an explanation. 

Jesse shrank a little and averted his gaze, stammering out an apology and clenching his jaw shut tightly. His eyes were glued to the floor, and he shuffled his feet in shame. “Jus’... Look I’m in no position to fight, now am I? Ain’t gonna get you all riled up when you’re helping me out, neither. I don’t have some sinister ulterior motive, swear.” he muttered, flinching a bit when he felt Reyes’ hand fall heavily on his shoulder. 

“Yeah, sure, I’ll believe you for now. But one slip-up and I’m leaving, got it?” Reyes bit out, removing his hand from Jesse to instead throw the kid’s arm over his shoulder so he could help him to the bathroom. “You stink like a fucking skunk. Brush your teeth and then strip.” he ordered, no room for question in his tone.

McCree opened his mouth to argue, but one sharp look from Reyes had him shut it and shuffle over to the sink. He busied himself with the toothbrush and paste while his commander moved the opposite direction, turning the knobs on the bathtub to get the hot water flowing. He kept one hand under the gushing water to monitor the temperature, and when it was just right, he closed the drain and let the bath begin filling up slowly. He could hear the sound of Jesse thoroughly scrubbing at his teeth and tongue, and allowed a small moment of relief that the kid was doing what he said. He may not  _ like _ the kid, but he didn’t hate him either. 

He was like a lost puppy, lashing out because it was afraid of the new surroundings it was brought into. Jesse had bit the hand that fed him more than once, but this time he was too ill to fight, and Reyes intended to show him that even though he was his superior,  he was also the person who took in and cared for him after all he’d been through. 

By the time the bath was half-full, Jesse had finished brushing and stripped out of all but his boxers. Gabe turned to look at him, and snorted at the kid’s modesty. “Seriously? We have communal showers. You have nothing to hide.” he chastised, and then smirked mischievously. “Unless you’re afraid I’ll see what your little ‘Peacekeeper’ is supposed to be compensating for, eh?” he teased, earning a snarl that didn’t quite come off as threatening with the way McCree’s face and chest blossomed red. In lieu of a verbal response, Jesse swiftly pushed down his boxers and stood there proudly, not ashamed in the slightest bit. 

Gabriel just laughed harder at how easy it was to rile him up, and jerked his head towards the nearly-full tub. 

“Alright, you’re not compensating for anything now get in the fucking bath.” he chuckled, moving to Jesse’s side again to help him in without slipping. Of course, McCree tried to jerk away, but that only made him dizzy and Gabriel ended up having to catch him to keep him from falling over. He flushed red again, mumbled a ‘thanks’, and reluctantly accepted his superior’s assistance. 

A sigh of relief passed his lips when he sank into the warm water and relaxed back into it. Gabriel allowed him the moment of reprise as he shut the faucet off and sat himself on the edge of the tub. He didn’t speak as he rolled up his sleeves before reaching for the bottle of shampoo Jesse kept- Old Spice, the same brand as the rest of the kid’s bathing products. The smell was pleasant when he poured a generous amount into his hands and lathered it in his palms. Jesse looked up and frowned at Reyes, reaching for the shampoo bottle himself and pulling it away. 

“I can manage my own washing, you know.” he groused, but paused at an irritated eye-roll from Gabriel. He tried to flinch away when the bubbly hands reached for his hair, but Reyes was quicker and grabbed him a little too roughly by the hair. 

“Not with one hand you can’t. I’m just washing your hair, I’m not gonna go scrubbing at your cock, moron.” He snapped, working the lather into Jesse’s hair and thoroughly attacking the greasy locks. He was allowed with a grumbled protest, but McCree wouldn’t meet his eyes. Not that it actually mattered. He didn’t need eye contact to clean the kid’s hair.

He massaged the hair well for about a minute until he was satisfied, and then helped Jesse dip his head back into the water and rinsed it all out. Once that was done, he grabbed the white rag hanging over the edge of the tub and lathered it up to hand off. 

“There. Now clean yourself up and let me know when you’re done. I’m gonna take a look at your prosthetic. May be damaged if you threw it too hard, ungrateful brat.” he said, rising from his place and leaving McCree in peace to finish washing up.

The moment the door slid shut, Jesse let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and relaxed back against the tub again as he ran the soapy rag along his chest and what remained of his other arm. There wasn’t much he could do for the arm that held the cloth, but at the very least he managed to wash out his armpit. He sank into his own mind again as he cleaned himself off, desperate to find some answer to why he was being treated with such… well, not  _ kindness _ , but care. No matter how he looked at it, this just wasn’t the Reyes he thought he knew. Maybe he’d been wrong about the guy this whole time, and had simply been lashing out because he could. 

He wasn’t initially mad at Reyes, but his situation. And clearly Reyes was not the kind of guy to take shit from anyone, especially some punk from the streets. So really, wasn’t this whole thing Jesse’s fault from the start?

Today was the first time he’d seen Reyes laugh, he realized with more than a little bit of shock. How much of an asshole had he been? Enough, he decided. He’d been enough of an asshole that he looked right past how Reyes treated everyone else and only focused on how they interacted together when he never even gave the man a chance. 

Before he knew it, ten minutes had passed and Gabriel was knocking on the door and calling in for him, “Hey, don’t tell me you drowned in there. Are you clean yet?” Jesse jumped a little at the suddenness of the noise and his head snapped to look at the door as it opened and Reyes walked in. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just movin’ a little slowly is all. Still haven’t fully adjusted to… this.” he explained, waving his stump arm uselessly. Gabriel just hummed and grabbed a towel, then offered a hand to McCree to help him stand. It threw him off for a second, but he took the hand nevertheless and hauled himself to his feet. Once he was up, Gabriel let go and handed him the towel. 

“Don’t wrap yourself. Just dry yourself off as best you can. Your prosthetic’s fine, and as soon as you’re dry you’re putting it on. I’m not helping you get dressed.” Reyes said, voice much less harsh than usual. It made McCree’s heart jump to his throat when combined with everything else he’d done that evening. He toweled himself off as best he could and followed after Reyes back into his bedroom. He dutifully attached his prosthetic (with minimal help), and then dressed into the pair of pajamas his commander had set out for him. 

He felt like shit still, but if nothing else he was  _ clean and fed _ , and his spirits were significantly improved by both of those things. And above all else, he was being given a sort of second chance to get to know Reyes, to redeem himself and start their relationship anew.

And, for once, he was finally starting to feel a little more at home here. He couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity, even if it had been because he’d been such a shit to the point he’d literally made himself sick from overexertion. Still, despite that, he was happy. Happier than he’d been in a long time. Happy enough that he almost felt like crying.

He didn’t, though, and instead crawled back into the clean bed with Reyes’ help and instructed to rest. He was out like a light within minutes, Gabriel still moving around and cleaning up what he could. Once the vomit was washed off the floor, he went to throw out the cigarette bucket entirely and returned with a new bucket for McCree to barf in, as well as one of the ashtrays from one of the smoking areas. The smell of cigarette butts and vomit were bad enough on their own, but together they were an unholy stench that he hoped he’d never have to smell again. He’d keep those separated as best he could for now.

 

* * *

 

 

Jesse was blissfully asleep for hours after that, and when he finally woke, he saw that Reyes was sitting in his desk, looking as though he were working on paperwork. He was murmuring quietly to himself, and the sound of rustling paper and the scratching of a pencil were the only other noises in the room that he could hear.

“What’cha workin’ on?” Jesse croaked out, wincing at the dryness of his throat and how scratchy it had made his voice. He might have laughed at the way it obviously startled Gabriel, if he weren’t afraid of breaking off into coughs again. So he stayed quiet and pushed himself up to sit and watched his commander turn to face him. 

“Didn’t get to finish my reports earlier. But I wasn’t gonna leave you to choke on your own puke either.” Reyes explained, looking Jesse over and noting that he’d stopped sweating as badly, and some of the color had returned to his face. “You’re looking better. Hungry?” he asked, rising from his chair and producing a thermometer from his pocket. 

“Not really. Wouldn’t mind some water though.” McCree said, taking the thermometer and dutifully sticking it into his mouth as Reyes moved to the bathroom to grab him some water from the sink. The thermometer beeped just as the glass of water was brought back, and they traded their items without a word. Gabriel hummed thoughtfully at the reading before slipping the protective cap back over the tip at slipping it back into his pocket. McCree took a few long sips from his water and set the glass on his nightstand before either of them spoke again.

“Listen, I-” Jesse started, but was cut off when Reyes raised a hand and frowned, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t. You’ve still got a fever and need to rest. Save your breath, kid. We’ll talk later.” Reyes grumbled, turning his back and striding over to Jesse’s desk to gather up his paperwork. “You should be fine after a day or so. Just take it easy. Ziegler told me she’s gonna have someone bring you food and she’ll be by every so often to check your vitals. I’ve got a mission in three hours and I haven’t had a goddamn wink of sleep, so I’m leaving. When I’m back, we’ll talk then.”

Jesse didn’t answer, only watched as Reyes finished gathering his things and made for the door. He pressed the button and watched it slide open, but hesitated a moment there. McCree swallowed heavily when Gabriel turned to look over his shoulder at him, a smirk in place on his lips.

“If you’re not better by the time I get back, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

And then he was walking out, and the door slid shut behind him with finality. Jesse couldn’t process it. Reyes had actually  _ stayed _ with him. He looked over at the digital clock embedded in the wall, and his eyes widened as he saw that it was just past three in the morning. Gabriel had been here almost all night, just making sure Jesse wouldn’t choke on his vomit in his sleep. 

That was it. Jesse was crumbling under the heavy weight of the guilt in his chest, and a soft sob slipped past his lips before he could stop it. He brought his good hand up to cover his mouth, and his eyes started to burn with tears that quickly spilled over his lids and dripped hot and wet down his cheeks and over his fingers. He was a piece of shit, and didn’t deserve a single bit of the care Reyes had offered him. 

He had to apologize; had to make this up to his commander somehow. He had to redeem himself, even if it took him the rest of his life. Reyes actually  _ cared _ about him. Angela too, probably, but he hadn’t been such a massive ass to her as he had been to Reyes. He hadn’t felt this genuinely grateful since his abuela was alive.

The sobs wracked Jesse’s body despite his best efforts to bite them back, and before long he was curled into a ball on the bed, knees drawn up to his chest and both hands clamped tightly over his mouth to at least stifle the embarrassing gasps and cries leaving him. He’d fucked up so badly. He swore that by the time Reyes was back, he’d be a new man. He was done being the bratty kid from the streets. It was time for him to be a better person. 

His resolve had been firmly made by the time his body was exhausted from crying, and he fell back into a deep slumber. He dreamed of his abuela, and she patted him on the head and told him she was proud. 

 

* * *

 

 

True to her word, Angela had every one of Jesse’s meals delivered by little Fareeha, who sat and talked with him while he ate. He quickly grew attached to the little girl, and by the end of the week she was calling him ‘big brother’. Angela kept an eye on his vitals, and by his third day in bed she deemed him well enough to get up and move around again. His first task was to finish deep-cleaning his room, feeling as though he owed it to Reyes to at least try and take better care of the living space he had been granted. Once that was done, he finally made himself wander into the mess hall during a meal, feeling self-conscious at the way all eyes turned to stare at him. He considered leaving for a moment, but was immensely relieved when a grinning Fareeha called out to him and beckoned him to sit with her. 

The meal went surprisingly well, and he got to know some of the other members of Overwatch that he simply hadn’t cared enough to approach before now. Ana took a shining to him quickly, and by their third meal together, she had promised to take him under her wing and teach him everything she knew about shooting. Jack offered him training in hand-to-hand combat, and even Angela was giving him advice on how best to care for his arm when it was aching, and even showed him some basic first aid in her office the next day. 

Finally, he began to feel at home. And he was sure it never would have been so if it hadn’t been for Reyes. 

The mission lasted a total of twelve days, and Jesse was there, waiting at the landing strip for his commander’s transport the day he returned. Nerves wracked him and his resolve nearly crumbled when he heard the angry barking of Reyes as they were unloading. But when their eyes met, Reyes just let a grin slip and nodded in his direction, before swiftly going back to chewing out some other poor bastard for fucking something up. 

Once he was done, though, sending the soldier off with a smack to the back of his head, he made his way over to where McCree was waiting, with an honest-to-God smile on his face.

“So, you didn’t die.”

“Neither did you, I see.”

“Please, kid, those sons of bitches couldn’t get a hit on me if they tried.” Reyes laughed, and then his hand was slapping down on Jesse’s shoulder and pulling him along back into the base. 

“So about that talk. I’m goddamn exhausted and would just about kill for a beer. Feel like joining me?” he asked as they walked, and Jesse’s eyes nearly welled up with tears again. He really was being given a second chance. 

“As long as you’ve got better shit than I do.” he managed, pushing back the burning in his eyes with a cheeky grin. Reyes barked out a laugh and nodded, leading them both towards his office. 

“Deal. Better have your schedule cleared today, something tells me this isn’t gonna be a quick conversation.” Gabriel said, though he didn’t sound at all bothered by that prospect.

Honestly, Jesse couldn’t say he was either. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeeeeeeeeeeahhhh I'm actually really proud of this fic, all in all. If you liked it too, leave a kudos or comment! I'd love to know what you guys think of this little adventure between my trash children.


End file.
